


No Halo

by dumbbitchdisease



Category: Rupaul’s drag race, rpdr - Fandom
Genre: :(, Angst, Anorexia, Eating Disorders, F/F, Unclear ending sorry, idk man this is rlly sad, im bad at happy endings, im sorry, love my babies tho, trigger warning, tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:34:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24478033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dumbbitchdisease/pseuds/dumbbitchdisease
Summary: The first time Crystal notices is in college, but sharing a room with Gigi Goode lead her to notice lots of things.
Relationships: Crystal Methyd/ Gigi Goode - Relationship
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	No Halo

The first time Crystal notices is in college, but sharing a room with Gigi Goode lead her to notice lots of things. 

She notices how her eyes will freeze you and her smile will warm you simultaneously, and how she’s always dressed to kill with an attitude to match, how her thighs are the size of an arm, and how she can wrap both hands around her 21-inch waist and laugh like it’s a party trick.  
To Gigi it is- to Crystal it’s only proof that her roommate is beauty incarnate, and how beauty and thinness are two sides of the same coin. 

She notices everything after that. 

At home in Missouri she never knew anything- she thought she did, now she realises she didn’t, and oblivion is bliss until it isn’t.  
In her hometown her body size didn’t matter, and never worrying about weight was not a privilege but a normality. Now, suddenly, quietly, her body is all that matters, and the idea that it wasn’t, and never was, seems childish.  
It mattered all along.  
Watching Gigi slip into a size 00 dress feels like running a race minutes after everyone else began. It feels like panting and choking and watching everyone else leave you behind while you’re struggling to keep up. It mattered all along. 

In Missouri her favourite things were home cooked meals, now her favourite thing is a brunette barbie who gives supermodels a run for their money, and suddenly the taste of family dinners are stale at her lips. It mattered all along. 

She notices how in college no-one bothers you if you skip breakfast, and how she can get drunk a little easier if she has a smaller dinner, and how eating 2000 calories a day seems suddenly far too much, and how it’s easier to calculate everything when you make your own food - how much harder it is when you’re high, how much pasta she can cook and how much parmesan she can add, and, God- who knew olive oil had such a high fat content? She notices the sacrifices she will have to make if she ever wants to look like the girl of her dreams, and how much better the reward will feel than dessert with everyone else. She notices the fat on her thighs, and stomach, and arms and face and sees her body through new eyes.  
Oh, to see yourself for the first time, see it all, and wish you had seen sooner. It feels cruel. 

Gigi didn’t notice at first. She noticed that she was paired with an unfairly beautiful roommate, and how Crystal feels like a soulmate from the get go. How she doubts she’s ever met someone like her and doubts she ever will again. She notices how she feels the stars aligned, and migrated permanently into her stomach whenever Crystal looks at her for a little too long, or laughs a little louder, touches her a little more.  
She doesn’t notice Crystal remove herself from food, how the brunette will look at a plate with discomfort, how she’ll tap numbers into her screen and calculate the damage done after every meal. How the irrevocable realisation has occurred and the irreparable mindset has been installed. These small details, like the wind, wash over you and through you, and only a little too late do you realise how cold you are. They mattered all along. 

She notices how she maybe shouldn’t be feeling this way towards her roommate, how love often finds you when you’re hiding from it, and how good Crystal looks in bootcut jeans and her top, how she could be a little smaller than the beginning of the semester, or how she could be staring at her too much, how for the first time in her life she is truly scared of someone because of how much they mean to her. 

When they’re together Crystal notices more, how small Gigi’s hand seems in her own, and how her wrists feel like they’re made of china, how Gigi will never look at her body the way she looks at hers, and yet how she still won’t stop looking. How easy it is to skip lunch but how much harder it is to skip dinner, how she could never model the clothes Gigi makes, because she’s not the sample size, how vodka has low calories, but should never be drunk on an empty stomach and hurting heart. How one day Gigi might look too closely, and see too much - and my God- how much she doesn’t want her to see.

Gigi thinks she notices, she swears she feels her girlfriend lying every time she says she’s already eaten, and how she acts like she’s is prying whenever she asks, how she doesn’t like fucking with the light on anymore and how they’ll only sit down to eat dinner if it’s something Crystal has prepared. She thought she knew Crystal’s dress size, but apparently not, because- when did she wear size 0? Didn’t she see her slip away? And since when did she stop having milk in her coffee, and why did she find her dinner in the bin earlier this week, why is she slipping away?

In California Gigi had only cared about fashion and clothes, and now she cares so much, too much, about a curly-haired girl with a heart of gold, or glass.  
In Missouri Crystal cries in the bathroom after Thanksgiving dinner because the calories are too many and she’s too tired. 

Crystal tries not to notice Gigi’s anxiety, her relentless questions and queries and care. She tries not to notice how everyone seems to be trying to shove food down her throat, and how they seem concerned when she won’t let them. How easy 24-hour fasts are, but how hard it is to exercise during them, she tries not to notice that the binge last night destroyed the last 4 days progress, the flash of worry across Gigi’s face when she get’s undressed in front of her. She tries not to notice how long it takes to fall asleep on an empty stomach and a foggy mind that won’t let you rest until you plan tomorrow’s meal, how her fingers still won’t fit around her waist like Gigi’s did round hers, but how she won’t stop till they do. 

The first time Gigi notices, properly, is after they’ve lived together for a while. It’s easy to think you know someone, for you to feel as though because they’ve told you about their childhood trauma, or embarrassing secrets, that they’ve told you everything, and will continue to do so. She didn’t know a thing, she realised, as she looked down at the small pink notebook that’s contents revolved arounds foods eaten, and food’s not to. Recipes and meal plans and food logs. Numbers, so many numbers. She replaced it back inside the bag she found it in as she heard Crystal hum next door. Maybe she knew all along, maybe she still doesn’t. 

She notices everything after that. How everything is calculated and measured and punished. How the scales on their bathroom floor are scarier with each passing day, they resemble immeasurable worth, and how Crystal acts like she doesn’t remember when they got there even though it feels like a knife through Gigi’s chest, and how it feels like her skin’s always cold when she hugs her, and how friends and family scan her body nervously through eyes laced with fear, ever awaiting a breaking point, not knowing if it will be reached in 2 weeks, 2 months, or yesterday morning when she shook over breakfast. Crystal could model the clothes she makes but she’s scared to let her. Maybe seeing her in 00 dresses will make it all too real too fast, maybe if Gigi went back in time to unpick all the stitches that have been sewn onto her best friend’s front lobe she can make her eat lunch again. Maybe not. She didn’t know a thing.

Crystal didn’t care if people noticed. The feeling of being able to borrow Gigi’s jeans is worth the look on her face when she wears them, and if people would look at her funny when she wouldn’t eat with everyone when they went out, then she would simply stop going out. Food all tastes the same- tastes of fat, and she no longer notices the hair that falls out in the shower, a handful gone just means at least there’s less weight on the scale tomorrow. She pretends not to notice her mother’s missed calls when she says she won’t be home for Christmas dinner, and she pretends not to care when she hears Gigi crying in the bathroom after she said she was full after 7 mouthfuls. She’s not sure why Gigi’s crying - maybe it’s because she’s frustrated, maybe it’s because Crystal is a bad person who doesn’t deserve the food she makes. 

Gigi wishes she noticed sooner- now it feels too late. Now it’s lies and excuses and arguments. Water collecting round a flame that spits and hisses all throughout it’s extinguishment. Painful, when did it all become so painful? Crystal is thinner than her now- she’s sure of it, and neither of them go out, living nocturnally and filling each other’s worried glances with silence. Fear, why are they living out of fear? Gigi’s scared of what a failure she’s been, scared of the questions. ‘Is she okay?’ ‘Is she getting help?’ ‘Have you tried talking to her?’ ‘Why aren’t you doing anything?’ It’s failure, she’s scared of her incapability to make her smiling, happy Crystal return, and scared of other people’s acknowledgment that she can’t. Scared that the smiling, happy Crystal won’t return, that she has been diminished and deteriorated like her caloric intake and is lying somewhere underground with flowers growing out of her.

Watching someone die, and watching them kill themselves, feels like living in slow-motion, or trying to run in a dream. She can’t keep up. The finish line is in sight, but what’s the prize for Crystal for coming first place? Death? Hospitalisation? A lifelong fear of food and calories and possible infertility? She’s not sure anymore. She can’t keep up.

Crystal doesn’t notice anymore. She stopped noticing when she reached 103, suddenly numbers don’t mater anymore because it’s a feeling, a feeling of completion maybe? She’s waiting for the day she wakes up and knows she’s succeeded, finished, whether that be the day she finally knows she’s small enough, or to a white light at the end of the tunnel. Her mind tells her it might be the latter. She doesn’t mind. Life feels like a fever dream, and she wants to notice, to feel. to smile or to live, but the energy it takes her to get out of bed in the morning leaves nothing for the remains of the day. Maybe she’s dead already, she’s not sure anymore. 

She can’t wake up.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay sorry I was gna do a happy ending but I’m rlly bad at them :( love these 2 sm sorry if this is a heavy fic ! Feel free to tell me what u think 💖


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